Consumed
by laynee
Summary: Sam thought he heard a voice and then woke up on the floor with a wicked headache. Something happened to him, and it might be too late before Sam and Dean figure it out. Limp/hurt Sam, some hurt Dean later. rating for stuff later on. some language ?
1. Unknowns

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

/\-SN-/\

They had to enter through the basement, the front porch had rotted off and it was a good four feet to the door, which was still locked. Going through the basement never seemed like a good plan. The sort of entrance that said, "here, start out at the creepiest point of the house", but they did it anyway. Besides, both Dean and Sam knew that it didn't matter what room they were in, they usually found what they were looking for. Or it found them.

The stairs creaked as Sam placed his foot on the tread. "Hope these stairs hold out." He whispered.

"Well, go first and make sure." Dean whispered back with a smirk that Sam couldn't see, but knew was there.

"You go first, you're older." He switched on the flashlight.

"And as the oldest, I'm telling you to go first." Dean pushed his shoulder. "Come on, Samantha."

Sam rolled his eyes and cautiously went up the stairs. Both made it to the top without falling through. Dean pulled a folded newspaper copy from his pocket and shined his light on it.

"I'll take this floor, you cover the second."

"Okay." Sam started towards another set of stairs.

"Yell if you need help." Dean added.

"No shit." Sam smiled and tested the next flight of steps.

Dean moved cautiously through the house. The information he had was vague; maybe a spirit or poltergeist, possibly a ghoul, but he doubted that one, worst-case scenario, demon. Shit, he was sick of demons.

Sam slipped into a back bedroom. It was small, not much room around the twin bed and dresser that were covered in a generous layer of dust. Something had clawed through the mattress, he was hoping that whatever had moved on. The only thing worse than a pissed off spirit, was a pissed off raccoon that had just been startled. Ghosts never came with the threat of rabies.

Yeah, it was a poltergeist. Dean figured when he had to duck a plate that was thrown from the cupboard as he entered the kitchen. That was never a good room to encounter a pissed off spirit, too much ammunition, not to mention the healthy supply of kitchen knives that most houses had. A few forks were aimed at his head and he ducked again.

"Okay, time to be done." He muttered and pulled out the book to find the recitation. Once again, the standard salt and burn didn't apply.

Sam's phone beeped and he flipped it open. _Finished the spirit. –Dean._ Sam shoved the phone back in his pocket and turned. A gust of wind brushed past him and something cold traced its way up his spine.

He could have sworn that he heard, "I've been waiting for you." before he felt the floor rush up at him.

Dean heard the thump from the floor above him. He ran for the stairs, he just knew that it was Sam. Dean checked three rooms before he found Sam on the floor of the fourth. Blood pooled around his nose and he was pale. Dean dropped to his brother's side.

He rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam. Sammy."

Sam's eyes fluttered open and he pushed himself up. He wiped the blood away with his sleeve.

"What happened?" He looked to Dean.

"I was kinda hoping you'd answer that question." Dean met Sam's eyes. "Are you okay?"

Sam closed his eyes for a second. "My head's killing me."

"Like vision headache?"

"Like smacked my head on the floor headache."

"Can't figure out why." Dean smirked and sat back on his heels.

"Did you get it?" Sam pressed his hands against his eyes.

"It's done."

"Can we go?" His voice was gritty, like he had spent all night awake.

"Yeah."

Dean stood and helped Sam to his feet. Sam wavered a little but didn't fall again. Standing made black shapes drift across his vision, but they cleared after a bit. Dean kept an eye on him as they made their way out of the house.

Sam leaned against the impala as Dean packed away the weapons. Sam had his hand pressed against his temple, Dean saw the slight tremor.

"You going to get in?" Dean slammed the trunk closed.

Sam swallowed. "Give me a sec."

Dean was about to ask why, when Sam doubled over and vomited onto the overgrown driveway. A few witty, asshole remarks popped into Dean's head, but he ignored them and fished a water bottle from the back seat. He walked over to his brother and handed it to him.

"Thanks." Sam muttered weakly and took a slow drink.

"What do you remember?" Dean tried to keep the worry from his voice.

It wasn't like Sam to just pass out. Hell, a few hours ago Sam had been joking and the picture of health. Dean rested his hand against Sam's forehead, no fever.

"Got your message." He muttered like it hurt to talk even. "Then I was on the floor."

"You feel okay?"

Sam looked at him and shrugged. He leaned heavily on the car like it was the only thing keeping him standing, it probably was.

"Ready to go back to the room?"

Sam nodded and climbed into the car. Dean slid behind the wheel and they pulled away. Sam sat with his head rested against the cool glass of the window. Dean saw him wince as they met oncoming headlights. Sam had his head braced in one hand, the other was clenched into a fist. Dean could tell by the hitch in Sam's breathing that his kid brother was hurting. Everything that Sam was doing and not doing told Dean how much pain he was really in.

Finally they pulled into the motel parking lot. Sam pushed open his door, but didn't move much after that. Dean climbed from the car and went around to help Sam. By that point Sam was standing, but it was more the car than him.

"Sam?"

He turned to Dean. "I'm okay, just got to wait for everything to stop spinning."

Dean wanted to help, but he knew that Sam would probably try to resist more. "I'll leave the door open so you just have to stagger towards it."

Sam almost smiled. "Sounds good."

"Maybe I'll let you have some of the good pain killers."

"You could leave a trail to make sure I get the right room." He let go of the car and shut the door.

It was all an act and Sam hoped that Dean didn't know how hard he was trying. Dean knew, the few jokes did nothing to hide the tremor in Sam's hands and how pale he was. Sam briefly touched the doorframe to get his bearings again before he sunk onto his bed. Dean set the bottle of water and a couple white pills on the table between the two beds.

"I'm going to grab a shower." Dean pulled off his tee shirt. "You'll be okay?"

"Don't plan on moving much." Sam took the pills.

Dean glanced back at him once before he closed the bathroom door. Sam stretched out on the bed. He still felt like passing out and had no idea why. His head pounded and he draped an arm over his eyes to block out every particle of light. He was cold too, he realized after a few minutes of nothing but the white noise of the shower going and the black behind his eyelids. Cold like something was wrong more than an actual temperature. Before he could figure it out he drifted to sleep, at least he wasn't conscious of pain when he was asleep.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom and was relieved that Sam was asleep. Maybe he'd be all right in the morning. He pulled the blanket over Sam, slipped under his own blankets and switched off the light.


	2. Taking Hold

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

/\-SN-/\

Sam stood in a white room, no windows, no doors. Just white all around him. He knew there had to be a way out, or a way in, or something, but he couldn't find one. A small spot of red caught his attention, near one of the top corners. He watched as it grew bigger and spread. It dripped down the wall and pooled on the floor. He went over to it and touched it with two fingers. Blood.

"You're mine, Samuel Winchester." The voice seemed to come from the room, to come from inside of Sam. A harsh whisper that sent chills up his spine. "I waited for you and I will end you."

The blood started down all the walls now, covering the white in red, tainting it. Sam watched as it rushed down like water and slowly started filling the room. It was then that he knew he would drown in blood.

Sam started awake and felt his heart pound in his chest. Automatically he looked at the chipped white paint on the walls, other than a few water stains, it was still white. He let go of a breath he was unconsciously holding. He sat up and the movement brought back his headache, not as bad as before, but enough. Slowly he stood and made his way to the small bathroom.

The light blinded him and sharpened his headache. He closed the door and hoped that Dean didn't notice the light. Sam braced his hands on the counter and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was pale and dark shadows underlined his eyes. A bruise shadowed his forehead under his hair. He pushed the brown curls back and assessed the bump and bruise. He closed his eyes and instantly images of the blood covered room appeared. He opened his eyes again, the images made him feel sick. He dumped two aspirin from the bottle and swallowed them with a handful of water. He slid down the wall to the floor in exhaustion, too tired to keep standing, but too afraid to sleep. He didn't know what was going on.

Dean knocked softly on the door. "Sammy, you okay?"

"Yeah." His tone wasn't very believable.

Dean tried the doorknob. "Let me in."

Sam reached up and unlocked the door. Dean slipped in and leaned against the counter.

"What's going on?" He looked at his younger brother, tried to pinpoint something, anything.

"Couldn't sleep, didn't want to wake you."

Dean shrugged. "I was awake anyway." He paused. "How's your head."

"Fine." Again he wished he sounded honest.

"You sick?"

"I don't know." Sam paused, tried to figure it out for himself. "No, I'm okay."

He got to his feet and met Dean's eyes. There was something there that Dean couldn't place, something wrong. Sam ducked his head.

"I'm going to go back to bed." He muttered and left.

Dean stayed where he was, leaned against the counter. He tried to piece together what happened, what was wrong with Sam. After a few minutes he came up with nothing and turned off the light.

Sam was on his stomach, the blankets pulled high around his face. He was pretending to be asleep, but Dean knew. Dean wanted to kick the end of the bed or throw a pillow or something to let Sam know that he knew he was faking, but he just went back to bed. Sam would come clean, one way or another. Dean lay on his back, eyes open and focused on the stained, white ceiling. The thing about it all was that Sam seemed just as concerned and without answers as Dean was. He was used to Sam doing strange things or strange things happening to both of them, but the confusion bordering on fear in Sam's eyes was something that Dean couldn't stand, not when neither of them had any answers.

Sam looked over at Dean in the dark room. He thought Dean was asleep and figured he could stop pretending, it probably hadn't worked anyway. Something wet dripped down Sam's lip and he wiped it away. Even in the near absence of light, he could make out the blood that covered his fingertips.

"Shit." He sat up and cupped his hands by his chin to stop the blood as it flowed faster.

Dean sat up. "Sammy?" He turned on the light.

Dean saw the blood and got out of bed. He grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom and handed it to Sam. He sat on his bed across from his little brother and watched him mop up the blood.

"You okay?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah." Sam muttered.

"This is only the beginning, Samuel." That voice from the dream flickered through Sam's mind. He winced slightly.

Sam checked to see if he had stopped bleeding. A fair amount of his blood soaked the once white towel and the room from his dream suddenly flickered into his mind. He shivered with a momentary involuntary chill. Dean watched with calculating eyes, a determination to figure this all out.

"Stop staring." Sam muttered and wiped the towel across his face. "It's just a nosebleed. I'm fine."

Dean glanced away, for a second. "Sure."

"Dean. I'm okay. Really." Sam met his brother's eyes and hoped Dean couldn't see the lie.

"We got a job lined up for tomorrow, you okay to do it?" Dean said it just for something to fill the silence.

"Yeah." Sam stood, the towel crumpled in his hand. "I'm going to wash the blood off and go to bed." He left the room, mostly to get away from Dean's concerned gaze.

Sam tossed the bloodied towel in a corner of the room and cupped a few handfuls of water to his face. He looked up at his reflection, other than a little pale, he looked nothing other than tired.

"Samuel." The voice warned. "Don't tell him, he'll only think you're crazy. He'll be afraid of you. You'll put him in danger if you tell him." He closed his eyes for a moment and took a slow breath.

The voice stopped and he only heard the drip of the faucet. Part of him knew it was a lie, but his fear that it wasn't was stronger and he let it win. He was just tired, he rationed to himself, tired with a head injury. That's all any of it was, he'd be okay in the morning. Everything would be fine in the morning.

When Sam returned from the bathroom, the light was off and Dean was pretending to be asleep again. Sam breathed a small sigh of relief and thanked whoever was listening for small miracles. He slid under his blankets and closed his eyes, too tired to fight sleep.

"Sleep, Samuel, while I let you. You will fight, at first, but I will prevail and I will be rewarded for my work." The voice hissed in Sam's ear. "Sleep, I won't hurt you. Yet."

Sam waned to fight against what the voice had told him, he wanted to snap awake, but it was too hard and he was too exhausted. With a brief struggle, he slipped into dreamless sleep, the anxiety melted away.

/\-SN-/\

I know this is sort of a rough start, but it will get better (I'm fairly sure). I know where I want this to go, just not how to get there exactly. Any help with making the first two chapters better (chapter one especially) would be great. Thanks.


	3. AWOL

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

Just so you know, the following chapters deal with some sensitive issues (suicide and self harm), so if this is something you don't want to read, feel free to skip it. I'll let you know when the chapters aren't so dark, if you want to finish the story.

/\-SN-/\

They woke early and packed quickly. No words about the previous night were spoken, both Dean and Sam hoped that whatever horrors the darkness held were burned away with the morning sun. After a quick stop to grab something for breakfast, they were on the road, pointed towards the next job.

Sam's eyes were focused on the scenery blurring past the window, one hand clenched in his lap. He hadn't hardly said three words since they got into the car that morning, he was distracted, weary. Dean had his music on, but wasn't singing along as he usually did. Sam's eyes unfocused and his hand relaxed.

All Sam could see was darkness. He wasn't afraid, he wasn't anything, just darkness.

"Very good, Samuel." The voice echoed in his mind. "See how much easier it is if you don't fight me."

"Hey, Sammy, you want to maybe take a break in that string of conversation?" Dean glanced over.

The joke and smile left Dean's face as he noticed Sam's pale face and vacant eyes.

"Sammy." Dean reached over and rested his hand against Sam's cheek. "Shit."

Dean pulled the car onto the shoulder. For once he regretted taking the near empty, back roads. Nothing for miles, not that he wanted a bunch of people messing with their business, but the prospect of nearby help never hurt either.

"Sammy. Sam." Dean pressed his fingers to the inside of Sam's wrist and felt the slow, but steady pulse.

Dean climbed from the car and ran to the passenger side. He opened the door and braced his hand against Sam's shoulder to keep him in the car.

"Sam." Dean turned his brother's face towards him.

Sam stood in the blackness, it pressed all around him, almost making it hard to breathe. He felt something damp on his left arm and looked down. Blood ran from the inside of his arm. He pressed his hand over the wound to try and stop the flow. He could feel the blood pulse over his fingers.

"You've thought of this, Samuel. I know you have." The voice soothed, took control. "It would be better if you had, but you still have time to save him. And you do want to save Dean, don't you Samuel?"

"Save him how?" Sam whispered to the darkness.

"Save him by doing what he is unable to do." The voice paused and Sam was fearful of what the answer was. "Kill yourself."

"Sammy?" Dean's voice cut through the darkness. "Come on, Sammy, don't do this to me."

"Dean?" Sam looked around, nothing but darkness, and then a blinding light.

Sam gasped and sat forward. Dean pressed his hand against Sam's chest to keep him from falling. Sam looked down at his left arm and was surprised to find it free of blood.

"You with me, now?" Dean's voice couldn't fully contain his fear and his relief.

Sam looked up at his brother and nodded.

"What happened, Sammy?"

Sam tried to remember, but there was nothing. He was watching the road signs and prairie fly by, the music was on…and now they were stopped at the side of the road. He didn't remember the darkness, the voice.

"Sam."

He looked up at Dean. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

Dean saw the brief flash of fear and knew it matched his own. Dean took a shaky breath and straightened. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned on the roof of the car.

"How long was I gone for?" Sam muttered.

Dean looked over at him, some of his color coming back. "Five, ten minutes."

"What was it like?"

He shook his head, all to ready to forget the incident rather than remember every detail. "You eyes were open, but you weren't there. You were just…"

"Gone." Sam finished for him. "That's all I got, too."

"Anything you're not telling me?" Dean asked, hopeful that one of them would have an answer.

For half a second Sam almost mentioned the voice he heard the previous night, but when he thought back on it, it seemed like a dream. "No."

Dean nodded and took a breath, his usual composure back. "Well, might as well keep driving then."

"But the scenery's so nice here." Sam smiled a little.

"Like you haven't seen prairie for the last three hours." Dean allowed himself to smile too, anything to move past the moments of fear.

"Good thing we'll get to see it for the next five."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You're a dork." He walked around the car and got behind the wheel.

"That's the best you can do?" Sam baited.

Dean smiled, mischief behind the grin. "You just wait to see what I can do."

Sam raised his hands. "I surrender, please, spare me from your brilliant schemes."

He pulled back onto the highway. "Oh no, you started this yourself, Sammy. Man up and finish it – oh, sorry, that'd be hard for you."

"That's the type Dean Winchester come-back I remember." Sam kept the smile plastered to his face.

Anything to keep their thoughts from drifting back to the fear, anything.

Dean kept glancing over at Sam, making sure his little brother didn't disappear again. Sam knew what Dean was doing and pretended that he didn't, for Dean's sake. Sam tried to keep his mind engaged at something, maybe if he kept a string of thoughts going, any thoughts, then he couldn't slip away. He understood Dean's fear, the missing minutes terrified him too.

"You're fighting again, Samuel." The voice was barely a whisper in Sam's subconscious. "Your will is strong, but I can break it."

The sun started to push into the horizon and both Dean and Sam kept their eyes out for signs that advertised food and motels.

"Food or a place to stow our stuff?" Dean asked. He had relaxed some over the past six hours, Sam had been with him the entire time. He hoped it was simply a onetime thing.

Sam's thoughts were fuzzy and slow.

"Answer him, Samuel." The voice guided.

"Let's drop our bags off." He swallowed.

He was fighting to keep control of his thoughts, of his mind. Dean looked at him and knew something was off.

"You okay?"

Sam shrugged. "Just a headache, from yesterday, you know."

Dean pulled into a motel and got out to get the room. Sam pressed his fingers into his temples, tried to clear the thickening fog in his mind.

"Don't worry, Samuel, I'll take care of you."

He relaxed just as Dean came back. They pulled into a parking spot in front of their door. Dean got out of the car and went around to the trunk for the bags. Sam mechanically stood and grabbed his bag from the back seat.

"One foot in front of the other, Samuel." Sam did as he was told. "Good, very good."

Dean noticed the color drain from Sam's face as he unlocked the door. "You all right?"

Sam was released for a second. He turned to Dean. "Just tired. Why don't you grab something to eat."

"What about you?"

"I'm all right." He dropped his bag by the bed.

"I'll swing through and grab something. You'll be okay for a few minutes?"

"Dean, I'm not seven any more." Sam smiled.

He nodded. "Okay. Take something for your headache." Dean looked at Sam again, maybe he wasn't so pale after all. "I'll be back in ten."

Dean slipped out and closed the door behind him. White noise filled Sam's ears, like the black and white fuzz on the television. He dropped to one knee.

"Just relax, Samuel. All you have to do is relax."

Sam slumped against the bed and knew nothing else.


	4. Voices

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

Just so you know, the following chapters deal with some sensitive issues (suicide and self harm), so if this is something you don't want to read, feel free to skip it. I'll let you know when the chapters aren't so dark, if you want to finish the story.

/\-SN-/\

Dean came into the room with a paper bag of fast food dinner. Sam was sitting on the floor, a towel held to his face to stop the blood. He was pale and met Dean's eyes when he entered.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed. "You okay?"

"Other than this, yeah." He muttered.

Dean grabbed a cheeseburger from the bag. Sam eased himself up onto the bed, moving made him dizzy, but he covered well.

"Samuel, stop fighting me." The voice hissed.

Pain stabbed through Sam's head and he closed his eyes. He couldn't hear anything over the pounding of blood in his ears. Dean watched his brother with a growing sense of unease. He saw Sam start to fall forward and caught him before he hit the floor, again. Sam's eyes blinked open with confusion.

"Easy." Dean muttered.

He moved Sam back against the headboard and pillows. Sam kept his head bent forward so he didn't swallow all of the blood that poured from his nose.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed. "What the hell's going on, Sammy?"

"I don't know, I honestly don't." Fear flickered behind his eyes.

Sam brought down the towel and saw that the bleeding had stopped. He moved to the edge of the bed and stood. It threw him off balance for a moment, but then he was all right. He slipped into the bathroom and closed the door. Dean watched his every move without a word.

Sam leaned heavily on the counter. He turned on the water and wiped the blood from his face and hands. His face was pale and his eyes underlined in dark shadows. He heard the static again and darkness took over his vision as pain pierced through his head.

He stood in the darkness again, weightless and empty.

"Samuel, you see what happens? When you fight me, you receive pain."

"Who are you?" Sam managed to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"Something very interested in you, though that covers quite a bit. You, Samuel, are something special and I have the fortune of being your downfall."

"Why?"

"Because you still being alive will cause more trouble than you're worth." The voice was seductive, charismatic and Sam couldn't help but believe. "I will help you."

"Help me how?" Sam thought he heard a distant knocking.

"Help you end it all."

Sam's heart skipped a beat. "When?"

"Soon." The voice faded.

The darkness faded into the hard light and white tiles of the bathroom. Sam shook and his heart was racing.

Dean pounded on the door again. "Sammy, open the damn door."

Sam reached over and unlocked the door, he didn't remember locking it. Dean pushed open the door and met his brother's scared eyes.

"Dean." Sam's voice was low. "I don't know what's happening."

Dean wanted nothing more than an answer for Sam, but he didn't have a single one, not even a smartass remark.

Sam looked down at the tiled floor. "How long was I gone for this time?"

"A few minutes, I think." Dean sighed. "We'll figure this out, like always."

He looked up, his eyes oddly confidant. "One way or another."

The evening passed quietly. Dean checked and cleaned the weapons for the job in the morning and Sam researched. He wasn't looking into the job, he was trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

"What are you doing, Sam?" Dean glanced up from the gun he was cleaning, his voice casual.

"Just reading up on some things."

"You still okay for this job tomorrow?"

Sam paused. "I'll do my best."

"I know you will."

Sam closed the computer and put it into the bag. "What do we know about tomorrow?"

"Draugr. Wasn't a problem until a campground decided to expand and ended up near its territory."

Sam smirked. "Has to be killed by a hero, Dean."

"Sammy." Dean replied in mock hurt feelings. "Are you saying that I'm not a hero?"

He smiled. "I think that's the quickest you've ever caught on."

Dean shrugged and turned back to the gun. "Between both of us, there has to be enough hero to get this thing. It's killed seven in the last three weeks."

"What do we do?"

"Cut off its head, burn the body and dump the ashes in the sea."

Sam looked up. "You realize we're in the Midwest, no ocean for hundreds of miles."

"It's called a lake, Sammy." Dean looked up at him. Sam was obviously exhausted. Dean finished up and packed the bags for the next day. "Well, I'm gonna get some sleep."

Sam nodded. "Sounds good."

They both changed for sleep and slid under the blankets. Sam was asleep within ten minutes of the light being turned out. Dean lay awake for a while and just listened to Sam breathe. He was worried about the hunt, actually, he was worried about Sam. If he slipped away again, while they were after that thing, it would have an easy target. And as Sam had pointed out in humor, neither he nor Dean were exactly the spitting image of a hero. Dean drifted off, despite the anxiety that coursed through his blood.

Sam woke as suddenly as if someone had called his name. The white noise in his head blurred out everything else. He sat up and the dark room spun around him.

"It's time, Samuel. Time to end this." The voice spoke into the darkness.

"It is." Sam whispered.

He stood, staggered slightly and caught his balance before he fell. He knelt in front of his open bag and dug through it. His thoughts were slipping from him, his control waning quickly. His fingers wrapped around the desired object and he stood.

"Almost done, Samuel. Now the easy part." It paused. "Dying is always the easy part."

Sam stumbled to the bathroom and closed the door. The lock clicked in place with a finality that echoed in his ears.

He slid to the floor, his back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub and his hand clenched around the item from the bag.

"Are you ready, Samuel?"

"What about Dean?" His thoughts blurred into the white noise.

"You're saving him, remember? This is only for good. I wouldn't lie to you."

Sam was too far gone to realize that he was being lied to. He nodded and the white noise took over and then he only knew darkness.

Dean woke suddenly. He looked over and saw Sam's empty bed, the blankets twisted. A strip of light glowed from under the bathroom door. He climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom door. He pressed his ear against the cool wood and heard nothing.

It did nothing to reassure him. "Sam?" He knocked lightly. "Sammy, you okay?"

Something clattered to the bathroom floor. Dean had heard that sound before, it took him a second to place it. It was the sound of a pocketknife hitting tile. Without a second wasted Dean kicked the door in and blinked as the light momentarily blinded him.

Sam's eyes were unfocused, his face pale, his breathing shallow. Blood ran from his left wrist, his right hand covered in blood and the knife open next to him.

"Oh, fuck." Dean muttered.

He ran into the room and grabbed the first aid kit. Dean dropped down next to his brother and worked quickly to keep the blood from pulsing from the cuts up his brother's arm.

"What are you doing, Sammy, huh? You got to stop doing this to me." Dean didn't know if Sam could even hear him. "Come on, you should know by now. You can't be that stupid." He spoke out of fear and anxiety as he quickly stitched up the cuts, too deep for just a bandage.

Sam blinked slowly and his eyes moved over to Dean. "…Dean?" Everything was thick in his brain.

He looked up and saw Sam back with him. "Hey, Sammy." Dean finished wrapping his brother's arm in gauze and taped it tightly.

Sam looked down at the gauze and the blood stained tile around him. "What happened?" His arm throbbed with pain.

Those were the two worst words Dean had ever heard.


	5. Control

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

Just so you know, the following chapters deal with some sensitive issues (suicide and self harm), so if this is something you don't want to read, feel free to skip it. Also, some blood covered fighting, sorry. This story ended up being more bloody that I imagined. I'll let you know when the chapters aren't so dark, if you want to finish the story.

-/\-SN-/\-

Sam looked up at his brother. "Dean?"

"Everything's fine, Sam." He met Sam's eyes. "We'll fix this."

"I'm sorry." Sam looked away from Dean's determined eyes.

Dean grabbed Sam's arm. "You can't be sorry for things you don't remember." He stood and filled a glass with water. He handed it to Sam.

Sam's hand shook as he drank. He was afraid because he didn't know what was happening to him and he was angry that he couldn't stop it and he hated that Dean had to worry, with good reason, but still. Sam hauled himself to his feet with the help of the bathtub. He grabbed the counter as dizziness washed over him. Dean was on his feet in a second.

Dean glanced down at his watch. "Well, I guess we could get ready for the hunt. You still up for it?"

Sam nodded.

"Okay." Dean left the bathroom.

He wanted to keep Sam no farther than an inch away, but knew that it would only make Sam more anxious about the situation. He heard the water turn on and Sam emerged a few minutes later.

Sam sat heavily on the edge of the bed. "Maybe you should tie me up and leave me in the car." He looked up and tried to smile, tried to make it a joke.

"Sammy, that's crossed my mind ever since you started talking." Dean pulled on his jacket.

"But, what if, what if I do something else?" The smile was gone.

"Then I'll just have to save your ass, again." Dean forced a smile.

Sam nodded. "Thanks."

"Get your jacket." He grabbed his keys from the nightstand.

Sam grabbed his jacket and pulled the sleeves down over his hands. He followed Dean out to the car and climbed in. Dean focused himself on the hunt ahead, he couldn't even be close to top form if he was worried about Sam the entire time. He'd just have to take things as they come and deal with it then, that seemed to be the story of his life, of both their lives.

Sam was focused only on staying Sam, he was doing everything in his power to keep control. If he tried, he could still hear the white noise, just under his thoughts.

"You failed, Samuel." The voice was barely a whisper. "Now I'll have to go to plan b, and I can assure you, you won't like plan b."

Sam blinked and rubbed his hand across his eyes. He saw Dean glance over at him and he became very attentive to the scenery passing by.

Dean pulled into the campground and drove to the far end. They parked by an empty campsite. Dean and Sam climbed out of the car.

"Sam." Dean looked over. "I need to know that you're head's in this, otherwise this will end up being a lot more dangerous than I care to experience."

Sam swallowed. "I don't think I'm in a position to promise anything, but I'll do everything in my power to keep this danger free."

Dean met his brother's eyes and nodded. "Let's get this done."

Dean didn't want to hand Sam the hunting knife, but he refused to allow Sam to be unarmed against something that could kill him, though he was proving a danger to himself. Dean would just have to keep an eye out for him.

They traipsed through the woods in the direction of where the attacks occurred. Sam fought against the white noise in his head, but it kept getting louder. Dean glanced back at him and Sam met his eyes. For a second Dean thought his brother's eyes seemed darker, but it must have been the pre-dawn dark.

"Time for some fun, Samuel." The voice hissed in his ear. "For me, at least."

All Sam knew was darkness. He tried to fight against it, but he couldn't escape.

Dean saw Sam stumble for a second, but then he caught his balance and continued. Dean touched claw marks in a nearby tree. Sam paused behind him.

"We're close." He turned to Sam. "Are okay to do this?"

"Yes." His answer was monotone.

Dean gripped his gun a little tighter and felt the hatchet that hung from his belt. "Keep your eyes open."

Something crashed through the woods nearby and Dean tensed. He was too focused to notice that Sam hadn't even flinched. A dark shape moved through the trees towards Sam and Dean. The scent of death solidified that the figure was the Draugr. Dean popped a piece of strong peppermint gum in his mouth to overpower the smell.

The Draugr moved closer, its attention focused on the new aspect of prey. Dean carefully aimed. Shooting between trees, in the dark at a moving target would test all his skills as a sure shot. He fired and the thing stumbled back.

"Samuel, these are your last moments with him, you realize this." The voice muttered. "It won't be long now."

"What will you do?"

"Complete what I couldn't."

The darkness that surround him wavered a little and he saw Dean.

Dean glanced back. "Sam."

"I'm sorry." Sam whispered.

Dean grabbed his brother's arm. "Sammy, you can fight this. I know you can. Focus, please."

The darkness started to close in again. "I…can't. Dean."

Dean watched the brightness of Sam's eyes fade and he relaxed.

"Sammy."

Dean did what he swore he wouldn't do, he let his focus turn away from the hunt. The Draugr was clever, clever enough to see when its prey was vulnerable. It ran and lunged for Sam and Dean. It caught Dean from behind and knocked him to the ground. Sam was knocked into a tree, his head hit with an echoed thud.

Dean turned to face the thing. It's skin was death white and papery dry. Dean brought the gun up and fired. The Draugr flew back, now as angry as determined to devour its prey. Dean pulled the hatchet from its sheath and held it loosely at his side.

Sam pushed himself to his feet, his eyes blank with possession.

"Here's your chance, Samuel." The voice whispered. "Say goodbye."

Sam stepped forward and the Draugr noticed the second target. It crouched, ready to pounce. Dean noticed the change in attention and knew with a cold sense of dread what was going to happen.

The Draugr pounced on Sam and knocked him back to the ground. Dean saw the flash of its claws as it slashed across Sam's arms and chest. Blind rage filled Dean and he lunged forward. He swung the hatchet into the Draugr's arm. It howled with pain and turned its anger on Dean.

Dean felt claws across his shoulder and his breath hitched from pain. Out of training and defense, he swung the hatchet and cleanly severed the Draugr's head from the rest of its body. He wanted to run to Sam's side, but he knew that he had to finish the job.

"Sammy, you okay?" He didn't really expect a response, but he could hope for one.

Dean salted the body and doused it liberally in lighter fluid. He snapped open his lighter and dropped it on the stinking corpse. Only after he was sure that it was successfully burning he ran to his brother's side.

Sam's eyes were open, but that wasn't as much of a comfort as Dean had hoped. "Sammy, please. Come on back, I know you can, Sam. Please."

Sam's vacant eyes slowly focused on the blood soaking Dean's left shoulder and then down to the blood on his own chest and arms. He blinked and took a slow breath.

"…Dean…" He slurred.

"That's right, come on, Sam." Dean felt Sam's fingers tighten around his hand.


	6. Answers in Blood

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

This is the last chapter to deal with some sensitive issues (suicide and self harm), so if this is something you don't want to read, feel free to skip it. This story ended up being more bloody than I anticipated. I'll let you know when the chapters aren't so dark, if you want to finish the story. Next chapter should be less dark, a lot less dark. Thanks for reading

-/\-SN-/\-

Sam's eyes slid closed.

He sat on the bathroom floor, his back against the bathtub, the knife in his hand. Everything was muted, the colors his own ragged breathing, like everything was happening in a thick fog. He watched himself press the point of the knife to his wrist and felt the brief pain, though it was dulled somehow. Without knowing why, he pulled the kinfe up his arm and blood pulsed from the cut.

Sam looked up at himself in the mirror. His eyes were black and suddenly everything made sense.

"Sammy?" Dean's worried voice cut through the memory.

Sam opened his eyes and was afraid that Dean could see their darkness. "Dean." He swallowed. "I know what's wrong." He whispered.

Dean saw the torment and fear in his brother's eyes. "Sam?"

His voice broke. "I think I'm possessed."

As soon as Sam had said it, Dean knew he was right. Everything that they couldn't figure out suddenly made sense.

Sam met his brother's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Dean gripped his younger brother's shoulder. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm going to take care of this." Dean glanced over at the ashes of the Draugr. "I"ll be right back, just hold on."

Sam nodded. Dean grabbed a garbage bag from his pocket and scooped the ashes into it, they'd drop them off in the nearest lake once he had gotten his brother back. Sam fought as hard as he could to keep the demon from taking him over again. Dean glanced down at the blood oozing from his shoulder and shuddered at the thought of how fast an infection could set in from that things decayed flesh. Sam's eyes were on him when he returned. His own shirt was soaked with blood and a few of the gashes looked deep.

"Let's head back." Dean reached down to help Sam to his feet.

Sam gripped Dean's hand. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam."

Sam's muscles tensed. "Too late." His eyes darkened and he smiled.

Sam pulled form Dean's grasp with superhuman strength. Dean dropped the bag of ashes and wrapped his fingers around a bottle of holy water in his jeans pocket.

Sam leaned casually against a tree, his arms folded across his chest. A smirk spread across his lips and his eyes were black and bottomless. Dean tensed, his only thought was to save his brother._ Protect, Sammy._ That was his job, it was always his job.

"So, I finally get to meet you, Dean." Sam's smile widened. "Samuel has told me _everything_ about you, not willingly."

"Then you should know that your time is soon over."

Sam shrugged. "It's possible, I never intended to stay here long anyway. I had an assignment and it's nearly complete."

"Assignment?"

"You're not nearly as stupid as you appear." He paused. "Yes, Dean, an assignment. Don't worry, I'll use small words so you understand."

Sam pushed away from the tree and took a step towards Dean. "You see, Samuel is something of a fascination to the hell-bound crowd, sort of a prodigal son if you'll excuse my blasphemy."

The darkness flickered out of Sam's eyes for a second and he staggered back.

"Sammy." Dean knew his brother was fighting. "You can do this."

The black returned and Sam straightened, cocky and in control. "Yes, he does fight it. His destiny. He always has and that's where I come in. I was sent to help him complete his destiny."

"Complete it how?"

He smiled and held up his bandaged wrist. "It would have worked, if you hadn't stepped in." He met Dean's eyes. "You see, many have tried to take Sam down to where he belongs and obviously we have all failed. So I was sent. Think of it as a kamikaze mission, Sam would take me down with him."

"Suicide. It's like a one way ticket." Dean spat.

Sam's smile was cold. "Exactly. I just helped solidify things that were already in his head."

Dean was caught off guard and Sam noticed.

"You didn't know that your baby brother had thought of ending it all?" He took a step forward. "Of course it wasn't for the usual reasons, it was to save you from all the evil that follows Samuel."

What little color was left in Sam's face blanched. He reached out and touched a nearby tree. "Won't be long now. Though it's not quite the same. I'll have to pull him down to where he belongs." He touched the bloodied shirt.

"He belongs with me." Dean spat and threw the holy water on Sam.

Sam collapsed to the ground, his back arched in pain. It nearly broke Dean's heart to see his little brother in pain, pain that Dean had caused. Dean steeled himself against it and thought of the ritual that would release Sam from the demon.

"Dean." Sam muttered. "You can't get rid of me without getting rid of him."

Dean froze for a second. There was no other way to save Sam.

He took a breath and looked at his brother. "Exsisto scindo , exsisto scelestus , infractus , quod vexillum , filius limus , filius oimmunda unus , filius humus , amo Simultas , Dignitas , quod Istermaah."

Sam writhed on the ground. Black poured from his mouth and disappeared into the early morning air. He looked up at Dean, the black gone from his eyes, before he slipped into unconsciousness. Dean pressed his fingers to Sam's neck to check for a pulse. It was rapid, but it was there.

"Sammy?" Dean looked down at the gashes across Sam's arms and chest. Blood ran from them, they were deep. "Sammy, you gotta wake up so we can get out of here. Sam."

Sam's eyes blinked open and he slowly focused on Dean. "Hey."

"You with me now?"

He paused, for the first time in days, his head was clear. "Yeah." He almost sounded surprised. "Everything okay?"

Sam's eyes were clear with pain and Dean never thought he'd be thankful for that.

Dean sighed with relief. "Other than the fact that you're covered in blood, yeah, everything's okay." He carefully hauled Sam to his feet. "The car's not too far away."

Dean grabbed the bag of ashes, hooked an arm under Sam's shoulders and half dragged his brother through the woods. He placed Sam in the front seat of the car and climbed in behind the wheel. He leaned back into the seat and let weariness and exhaustion wash over him for a second.

"Dean?"

He looked over at Sam. "You okay?"

"Thanks. Without what you did, I'd be lost." He paused. "In more ways than one."

"You remember that?"

He painfully shrugged. "Kind of."

Dean turned on the car. "I wouldn't just let you go, Sammy."

"It's Sam." He sighed and closed his eyes.

Exhaustion pulled him into sleep. Dean was reluctant to let him, but knew that Sam could sure as hell use it.

-/\-SN-/\-

Latin translation - Be split, be accursed, broken, and banned, son of mud, son of an unclean one, son of clay, like Shamgaz, Mericaz, and Istermaah.

heard.


	7. Waking

Still don't own Supernatural. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

Okay, all the really dark stuff is done. Just some talk about suicide, but in true Winchester fashion, it doesn't get too intense. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

-/\-SN-/\-

Dean drove over a bridge and was nearly on the other side before he stopped. Sam was asleep aginst the window. Dean climbed out of the car, grabbed the bag of ashes and went to the railing. He looked down at the wide, dark water and punched a few holes in the bag with his pocketknife. He held it over the water and let go. It hit the water with a soft splash and sunk as water poured into the bag. He sighed and went back to the car. Mission accomplished, time to go home.

Dean pulled up in front of the hotel room and wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week. He looked over at Sam, he was pale and his breathing shallow. Dean hated to wake him.

_Miles to go before I sleep_, he smiled to himself, if Sam only knew he was remembering a poem. If Sam only knew that he read a poem, not for a school assignment. Maybe he'd tell the kid when they were both patched up. He slipped from the car, snagged the first aid kit from the trunk on his way around and opened Sam's door.

Sam started awake and looked up at Dean, enough pain and relief in his eyes to nearly break his older brother.

"Come on." Dean helped Sam to his feet and felt him shake.

Dean eased Sam onto one of the beds and opened the first aid kit next to him. Sam slid back onto the pillows and watched Dean.

"Stop staring." Dean forced a smile.

"Just don't want to miss anything, anymore." He whispered.

"You're fine, Sammy. It's over." Dean met his eyes.

Sam swallowed, relaxed slightly. "I know. Thanks."

"Get your shirt off." Dean pulled out the gauze and tape.

Sam sat up and painfully peeled his shirt from him. Several deep gashes extended across his chest and onto his arms. Some had stopped bleeding, but a couple were deep enough to worry Dean.

"This is going to suck." Dean pulled the bottle of holy water from his pocket.

"Least I'll remember it." He muttered.

Dean heard the slight fear still in Sam's voice. Dean dumped the holy water over the gashes on Sam. He winced with pain, but kept his eyes on his brother.

He wiped the blood and water away and looked at Sam. "This will hurt more." He opened the bottle of peroxide.

Sam braced himself for the pain and his breath caught as the peroxide hit the wounds. He clenched his fists, but didn't move other than that. Dean quickly bandaged the wounds. He'd stitch them up after he had gotten himself taken care of, he wouldn't be any good to Sam if he got worked over by an infection.

"That should hold for now. I'll have to stitch a few up."

Sam nodded and painfully moved up against the headboard. Dean pulled off his shirt and applied the holy water and peroxide method to his own wounds.

"Need any help?" Sam's voice was rough.

"I'm all right." Dean glanced up with a smile.

Thankfully Dean didn't have to be stitched up. A few bandages and a swig of whiskey and Dean was just fine. Sam was half asleep when Dean moved next to him. Blood had soaked through the bandages on Sam's chest and arm. Carefully, Dean removed the gauze.

He looked up at Sam. "You want a drink first?"

Sam paused. "Yeah."

Dean passed him the bottle and Sam took a swig. He grimaced as it burned and passed the bottle back. Sam usually didn't drink, but Dean knew that every now and then he would, especially when things had been rough. Rough was an understatement for what had happened.

"Something for the pain?" Dean grabbed a bottle from the bag.

"No."

Dean looked up. "Sam, getting stitched up hurts. You know that."

Sam lowered his eyes away from Dean's. "I don't want anything else messing with my consciousness. Not right now."

Dean gripped Sam's wrist. "Sure. Ready?"

Sam nodded. Sam's jaw was set and his hands clenched as Dean worked. Thankfully Dean could be quick and accurate, for both their sakes. Dean taped fresh gauze over the wounds and packed away the first aid kit. Sam was exhausted, but sleep was the last thing he wanted. He was reluctant to give into unconsciousness. Dean knew.

"It's gone, Sam. You're back to normal." He smiled. "Well, your normal."

Sam managed a small smile. "Jerk."

Dean pulled on a shirt and eased onto his bed.

He looked over at Sam. "What's going through your head, geek-boy?"

Sam shrugged. "Nothing."

Dean sat up. "I find that hard to believe. Level with me, Sam."

He looked over and swallowed. "I should have known sooner." He muttered.

"Sammy, as much as I hate to admit it, that was one clever son of a bitch. You know as well as I do that we can pick a demon from miles away."

"I could have hurt you."

"It wasn't after me." Dean sighed, he really didn't want to have this conversation, but he had to. "It told me something, Sam, something I need to know if it's true or not."

Sam sat up, already defensive. "Okay."

Dean stood and paced the small room. "It said some things, at the end."

"I remember some of those things." He whispered, not liking the direction the conversation was heading in.

"Then you know where I'm going with this." He stopped and looked at his brother.

Sam looked up at him through his hair. "Not exactly." He lied.

Dean sat on the end of the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. "You thought about killing yourself?"

He froze, even held his breath for a second. "It's not what you think, Dean. Wasn't really serious, just, just an option."

"An option?" He looked up at Sam, as much to catch his eyes as to read his body language.

"For a second. Think about it, Dean. Without me, you'd have a whole lot less shit in your life."

Dean stood. "No, Sammy. There'd be the same shit, I just wouldn't have anyone to cover my back when I get in too deep."

Sam looked up, shocked. "I never would have." He looked down at his wrist and realized it made him seem like a hypocrite.

Dean sat down again, exhausted from everything. "I know. I just don't like that you ever had to think that seemed like an option." He paused. "Saving you from yourself is the one thing I can't do, and I hate that."

Sam met his brother's eyes. "I know. Same goes for me."

"Make sure it's not an option again, Sam. Okay?"

He nodded. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy."

Sam bit back a smirk. "Does the saving you from yourself thing apply to some of the girls you pick up in bars?"

Dean smiled. "No. My taste in the ladies is fantastic, you're the one who needs help."

"Really, because I'm pretty sure the last one had a third nostril."

Sam didn't have time to duck the pillow that was thrown at his head. He grabbed it and added it to the ones on his bed.

He slumped against them. "Thanks."

Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam looked over. "We're okay then?"

"I'm not hugging you." He smirked.

"Come on." Sam baited.

Dean grabbed the other pillow and stopped half way to throwing it. Sam looked over, amusement written all over his face. Dean instead tucked it behind him. He grabbed the remote and switched the television on. Sam let himself relax finally as Dean flipped through the channels. Dean glanced over and Sam was asleep, he leaned over and grabbed his pillow back. Sam shifted, but didn't wake.

"Goodnight, Sammy." He whispered and turned back to the movie he stumbled across. Dean fell asleep to the flicker of the television.


End file.
